"Then the estate, the title and fortune will go to your cousin, the son of your father's brother."
"What? He has never even met the man. Never spoke to his brother for years, did not even attend his funeral."
Antonia waited in vain for him to enquire of the lawyer about her future if the marriage did not take place. She had no idea what would become of her in that case, but she was quite certain she did not want to be married to this man. She did not like him one bit; he was the most selfish and arrogant creature she had ever encountered.
He stood scowling at the lawyer as though it was his fault, then turned his scowl on her, frowning darkly at her as though she were a badly behaved child he was considering taking a whip to. She turned her attention back to the lawyer.
"What about me, Sir?" She asked herself, having given up hope of Robert making such an enquiry. "What will happen to me if I refuse to marry Viscount Healey?"
She phrased her question deliberately to let him know it was not wholly his decision, that he was doing her no favours by marrying her.
The lawyer frowned at her, while Robert raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"You will have a much smaller dowry to enter a convent in France, Mistress."
Antonia's heart sank. In truth she would rather marry this arrogant, selfish stranger than spend her life on her knees to an unforgiving God.
"I refuse to do that either!" She said. "I am not even Catholic! What was he thinking?"
"I imagine, Mistress, he was thinking of giving you no real alternative."
"Go!" Robert shouted. "Get out of my sight and find me some way to overturn this Will. I am the heir; I am entitled to everything my father owned."
The lawyer was shaking his head, looking scared.
"Not in this county, My Lord," he argued.
"What? What do you mean?" Robert demanded.
"The law that entitles you to inherit, regardless of your father's wishes, does not apply in the County of Kent. It never has. Your father knew that when he made the will, but I will do what I can."
He sent the lawyer out into the thickening snow without so much as a glass of weak wine, with orders to find some way to contest this ridiculous Will.
Antonia raised her eyes to study the man who stood glowering before her, his fists clenched in anger, his dark eyes blazing with fury. He leaned a hand on the huge, marble mantelpiece and stared down into the flames of the log fire, making his face glow warm and crimson in the heat.
He said nothing to her, did not even acknowledge her existence. Who the hell did he think he was?
"It is a great pity, My Lord," she remarked. "Are you able to manage without the money?"
He turned his head and narrowed his eyes at her, his brow furrowed suspiciously. His eyes seemed to burrow into her, his face stern and filled with hatred. She shuddered; she had done nothing to him, yet he seemed to despise her. She made a mental note to add hateful and unjust to arrogant and selfish. Was it her fault his father had made his Will as he had?
When he spoke his voice was harsh and his words answered her question.
"Is this your doing?" He demanded.
At first his question made her stare in surprise, but it was only a few moments before she was fighting to keep her face from creasing up with laughter. Really it was too much and she felt her lips twitching involuntarily, a laugh trying desperately to escape. She had never met this man before today, yet he seemed to think she was desperate to marry him, that she would manipulate her guardian into making this condition in his Will. How conceited could one man be?
"How do you imagine I would be able to achieve such a thing?" She asked. "Do you think perhaps I forged the Will, paid the witnesses?"
He raised his head a little, perhaps wondering if she could have done such a thing, if it were possible, and his expression made her laugh out loud.
"What you can find to laugh about in this situation is beyond my understanding, Mistress," he muttered angrily.
"Oh, I am not laughing at the situation, I assure you. It is hardly to my advantage, is it? If your father mistook your character and you refuse the inheritance rather than marry where he stipulates, what will become of me? I have nothing and I have no wish to live among the nuns." She paused and shook her head, a little smile on her lips. "It is your reaction to it which amuses me."
"What is wrong with my reaction? What else did you expect? I realise my father and I never got on, but to try to manipulate my life like this goes beyond anything I believed him capable of. He has done this to get his own way. It was about you we quarrelled in the first place."
"Me? How so?"
"He wanted me to marry you then, two years ago. I refused then and I see no reason to change my mind."
"Oh, I see," she remarked. "I knew nothing of that, of course. I am rather amused by your assumption that your father's conditions affect only you. What about me? Did you stop to consider that maybe I would not want to marry you?"
He straightened, let his hands drop to his sides and frowned down at her, where she sat beside the fire on the opposite side of the fireplace to the seat he had recently vacated. She could almost see his thoughts racing; he was wondering how a woman could possibly have any objection to marrying a young earl with a large estate and a wealthy income.
"It is a shock," he said. "I suppose given the circumstances you should have some feeling on the subject, but even had he lived, my father would have arranged a marriage for you, so it should make little difference to you." He paused while he walked to the cabinet to pour himself more wine. He held the flagon up for her, silently offering to fill her goblet, and she nodded. It might be wise to take advantage of the offer, since it was the only one she was likely to get from him.
"It seems we are both to be manipulated," she remarked. "As to him arranging a marriage for me, My Lord, he always promised me it would be with my consent. It seems he has gone back on his word in that direction. I really do not think you should feel you are the only one to suffer in this arrangement."
He handed her the goblet then took the seat opposite her.
"That sounds nothing like my father," he remarked bitterly. "To allow a woman to have a say in her own future is very much out of character for him."
"It is what he promised."
Robert leaned back in the chair, rested his head against it and sighed heavily as he sipped his wine. The fire was dying and he leaned forward to poke at the logs with the poker, then leaned back once more, his eyes on Antonia as though she were an unusual species of wildlife which had crept into the house.
"I will talk to more lawyers first thing tomorrow morning," he said, "see if there is any way I can contest the Will. There surely has to be a way of getting what is rightfully mine without marrying where I have no wish to marry."
She drew a deep breath and looked at him. He was a handsome man, fine even features and a strong, well built body, dark wavy hair and even darker eyes. An attractive man who was obviously well acquainted with his own charms, but now her amusement was turning rapidly to anger.
"I have little experience outside these walls, My Lord," she said, "but I really had not thought myself repulsive enough to make you show your distaste quite so blatantly. Is the prospect of marriage to me so very abhorrent?"
His eyes met hers and he flushed.
"No," he replied. "Forgive me, please. I never meant to give that impression at all. My anger has really nothing to do with you."
"What then? You have to marry someone, I suppose, so what is wrong with me?"
He stared at her thoughtfully. His expression no longer held hatred or suspicion, and he seemed to be trying to decide on the most tactful way to reply.
"Apart from your inferior status, and your youth, nothing," he replied. He put his goblet on a side table and leaned toward her. "It might even have been acceptable had I not planned to wed elsewhere."
She raised her eyebrows and wondered why she had not thought of that for herself. It was the shock,
as he said. She had no idea what her guardian had planned, if he had left anything at all for her, but she had not expected this. She knew he had a son, of course; she had seen his portrait hanging in the gallery many times, but it had never occurred to her that he would want that son to marry her. She had no title; her father had been but a minor baron, she was no heiress. She had no clue that he was planning this.
It was possible he had owed her father money, although he was a wealthy man in his own right, or there was some other debt which needed to be repaid, and the old Earl was planning to repay it with his son.
Antonia could possibly live with a man who had been coerced into marrying her, she could do her best to change his mind, but she would find it very hard to live with one whose affections lay elsewhere. Yet what choice did she have? What choice did he have? Perhaps the lawyer would find a way out and perhaps he would feel duty bound to support her; watching his angry expression, she rather doubted it. She most definitely did not like him very much.
She dragged her attention back to their conversation.
"Ah, I see," she said. "Forgive me. If you have made a prior commitment, you cannot marry me. But I assume your father knew nothing about that and now you will lose everything. I am sorry about that."
"There is no prior commitment," he told her. "I avoided that. I was waiting to inherit before I made any such proposal. Legally, there is nothing stopping me from marrying you."
"But you love someone else?"
His lips tilted just a little, as though he were trying very hard not to smile.
"I do, yes," he answered.
"Tell me about her."
He gave her a puzzled frown, then he shrugged and began to speak quietly.
"Her name is Camilla," he said. "Lady Camilla Austin. Her father is the Earl of Stanton."
"And you love each other?" Antonia asked.
"We do. We hoped to marry and I know it is what her father wants, but now I have nothing to offer her. If I cannot get this Will overturned, I will lose her."
"Not if she really loves you."
Robert stared at her as though she were a child who needed things explained to her.
"That is a romantic notion, but has no basis in reality. I cannot ask her to marry me without the title, the estate. She is a lady in her own right. I will be nothing, not even a viscount if my cousin gets the title."
Antonia did not agree. Perhaps because she was not used to having very much, not even when her parents were alive, and now she had grown used to being the poor relation. She knew she would want to marry the man she loved, whether he could provide for her or not.
She no longer felt sad on his behalf. If the woman would not marry him without the title and the wealth, then she did not love him and she was no great loss. It briefly crossed her mind that he might love her, but she doubted it. He did not seem to be capable of such an emotion.
"Do you have any idea," Robert was saying, "why my father would have done this? I never asked him two years ago when he suggested it, mainly because I was too angry. I simply refused. I did tell him I wanted to marry Lady Camilla, but for some reason he still insisted it be you, although she is by far the better match.” Once more he insulted her and she was half convinced he had no idea that is what he was doing. “I believe he must owe something to your father and is using me to repay a debt. It was the sort of thing he would do. If it is only to be sure you are looked after, I will of course support you."
"If that were the case he would have left some instruction for your cousin, would he not? He is not insisting that he marry me in order to inherit."
"Yes, he would. What then?"
"I do have a theory, although I cannot be sure it is the right one," she answered thoughtfully. "I have been wondering about it ever since the lawyer left."
He frowned at her again; he seemed to do that a lot.
"Well, what is it?"
"It seems there has been gossip in the town since he brought me to live here with him."
"What?" He said with a note of outrage. "You were only a child. Surely no one could have believed there was anything untoward."
"No," she replied, shaking her head. "The gossip was more along the lines of my being his illegitimate daughter. A lot of people believed that and to insist on my marrying his son seems a good way to dispel the rumours."
"Possible," he murmured thoughtfully. "How long have you been here, my father's ward?"
"Just over two years. Why?"
"So he was your guardian when he wanted me to marry you. Now it makes sense if people thought you were his child; now he is dead he would not care, but he would make that Will regardless just to get his own way. That is what he was like."
It had been only yesterday morning that Antonia opened her eyes to find an agitated maidservant tugging her awake.
"Mistress Antonia!" She cried. "His Lordship!"
She came awake slowly, wanting to sink beneath the covers and return to her dreams, but the woman was pulling at the warm bedding and shaking her arm, letting in the cold. Antonia snatched them back and pulled them up to her chin.
"Please, Mistress!"
"What is it?" Antonia muttered sleepily.
"'Tis His Lordship. I cannot wake him. I think he is dead!"
She released Antonia's arm and crossed herself hurriedly, as though such a gesture might keep his soul from the gates of hell.
"Dead?" Antonia said. "Are you sure?"
"I think so, Mistress," the servant replied. "Please come."
She picked up Antonia's cloak from where it lay on the bed and held it up hopefully, while Antonia reluctantly pushed back the covers and swung her feet to the ground. She half expected to wake up in a little while; she thought she might still be asleep, but the cold draught from the window told her otherwise.
She pulled the fur cloak closely about her, clutching the two halves together and snuggling into it, then followed the servant to her guardian's bedchamber, yawning every few seconds, and entered quickly, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep. But she stopped abruptly when she opened the door and the stench hit her, then she saw the white skin, the open mouth and staring, lacklustre eyes of the old man.
"What should we do, Mistress?" The servant was asking.
Antonia turned and frowned at her, then her eyes moved reluctantly back to her guardian. What should she do? That was a very good question, as it had never actually occurred to her to wonder what to do in such a circumstance. She stared at the gruesome sight in the bed and swallowed hard in a supreme effort to hold in her need to vomit.
"Perhaps you had better send someone for his physician," she said at last. "And Viscount Robert; he should be told straight away."
The old man would want a priest as well, but she had no idea where to look for such a person. She was certain there were a few hidden away in various houses, but the chances of them making their presence known was remote. She shrugged; it meant nothing to her. Whether some priest prayed over his body was irrelevant as far as she was concerned.
She watched the servant disappear hurriedly, as though she could not wait to leave the chamber and perhaps she could not. Who could blame her? Then she turned away herself and left, closing the heavy, oak door firmly behind her.
She made her way down the stairs to the great hall where she found some milk. There was bread and cheese already there for breakfast, but she could eat nothing. She sat at the high table and drank the milk, hoping it would calm her heaving stomach and it finally occurred to her to wonder what was to become of her, now that her guardian was no more.
He was, literally, all she had. He had been a distant cousin of her mother and when she was killed along with Antonia's father two years ago, he had brought her to live with him at Roxham Hall. Her father had left her with nothing, his own estate being entailed to the nearest male relative and she felt a little guilty to sit here now and wonder if her guardian had left any provision for her future financial security. But she had to think abou
t it, had to wonder. What would she do if he had left her nothing and his son refused to help her?
She had never met Viscount Robert. Well, he was not Viscount anything now, was he? He was the Earl of Roxham now his father was dead; this house in which she lived was his, all the money, the income, the tenants and servants were his and she supposed she, too, was his although legally that had no standing. He could not be compelled to become her guardian, to protect her or even to feed and house her. If he were not kind, she could find herself homeless and starving.
He had quarrelled with his father some two years ago, just a month or so after she had come to live here, and had not set foot in the house since. The old earl had refused to try to reconcile with him, said it was his own fault and it was up to him to do the right thing and apologise to him. Antonia never knew what the quarrel was about and she had never cared very much; now she wondered what manner of man it was who held her life in his hands.
When the lawyer had left after reading the Will, she retreated to her new bedchamber to arrange her belongings and to stay out of the Viscount's way.
She slept badly that night, her mind full of concerns about her future, how she would live, what she would live on. She asked herself many times if there were any work she might be suited to, but the answer always came back a resounding 'no'. She had been trained for nothing other than to be someone's wife, and even the training for that had been sadly lacking. She would have to comply with her guardian's wishes and marry his son, despite his obvious disdain for her. It was not what she wanted; she wanted a husband who would at least want to marry her, even if his reasons were only to sire an heir; that had to be better than marrying a man who loved someone else.
Her stubborn nature soon began to rise above her despondency. Was she really going to marry this disagreeable man, when she could go and find some sort of work? It would not be pleasant, not what she was accustomed to, but better than the alternative.
Because of her disturbed night's sleep, it was late when she woke and she only ordered milk when she finally dressed and came down to the great hall. She heard Robert's hurried footsteps coming toward her and wished there were another exit; she did not feel up to an argument with him and she was quite sure that is what would ensue. He had not even tried to be polite about his distaste for her, had not even tried to hide it. She was nothing in his eyes, nothing more than a nuisance.
HOLY POISON: Boxed Set: The Complete Series 1-6 Page 36
